Tales of Marks & Wings
by Gumnut
Summary: A place for ficlets and snippets based in the Marks & Wings AU. Each chapter will be complete within itself. Some Virgil/Kayo,, but not all.
1. Dare Devil

**Dare Devil**

_ the-lady-razorsharp did some wonderful art!_

_I got inspired and this little ficlet happened :D I hope you enjoy it. Marks & Wings Universe and young Tracys :D_

-o-o-o-

Out of all the Tracy brothers, Scott was the dare devil.

That's not to say that the other four were incapable of silly stunts, it was a given that any and all of them tried to kill themselves doing something stupid at least once in their lifetime. But it was Scott who was the most proficient in the air and Scott who stretched the limits of physics the most.

Virgil was known to comment that his wings should be grey considering how much worry his older brother caused him. Scott's answer to that was to declare that his wings were grey because he had four younger brothers who stressed him to that colour.

Gordon would simply laugh and then prove his brother's point. There may be a cliff involved, or perhaps a shark, but generally an ocean and depths that no other brother could even consider…and, yeah, grey feathers for the eldest.

Alan was very much like Scott and loved to do tricks midair. Said tricks usually ended up in a lot of screaming, whether it be Alan falling out of the sky screaming or the two older brothers berating Alan after falling out of the sky.

Alan's answer to that was always, "But Scott did it."

Virgil was often absent after that.

John, thankfully was much calmer, much more logical, much more likely to take the sane route. Virgil had blanked out his younger brother's one incident of seeing how high he could fly with an oxygen supply attached.

Sure the height limit was well documented, remarked on, stuck on the refrigerator, yelled at goodbye and generally etched into every Tracy brothers' brain, even Gordon's, despite his lack of wings.

Gordon's depth limits were a whole other story, one enough to cause Virgil to moult out of sequence.

But anyway, all the boys knew the limit of the height they could fly and should never go beyond. John, in his ever scientific glory, decided to test said limit.

He hadn't counted on Air Terranean flight 5476.

Let's just say he was grounded in more ways than one after that little incident. Their father, wingless and somewhat powerless in the wing parenting department, exploded at all five boys, somewhat unfairly, Virgil thought.

No one went above the height limit again.

Well, no one admitted to it.

Virgil had suspicions that no rules remained unbroken when Scott took to the air. The key was that he did it with so much style, no one cared.

Scott excelled at acrobatics. He could flip himself midair, virtually fly upside down - Virgil had yet to work out how the hell his brother managed that little trick - and soar at speeds that left his brothers in his contrail.

John had theories. Scott's wings were this shape, canted at that angle, weighed x amount. Virgil, of course, knew all the theory and suspected Scott was just very good at making the most of the available conditions.

Gordon claimed he was gas powered on Grandma's cooking.

However he did it, he did it beautifully.

Virgil wasn't afraid to admit he admired his brother either.

There had been moments, standing in the middle of a Kansas field, staring up into the sky, watching his brother soar. There had been sketches and studies, even the occasional paint work. Virgil had initially attempted to keep it secret from his brother. After all, finding inspiration in your older brother could have been considered a little odd. Gordon, no doubt, would have plenty to say about it. So he kept the sketches to himself and simply admired what his brother could do.

Of course, Scott had eagle eyes to match those eagle wings and it wasn't long before the younger brother was discovered sitting on the grass drawing by his flying brother.

Virgil feared his brother would laugh. But no, Scott, ever the big brother, simply sat beside him, asked him a few questions and admired his work.

If, after that, Scott took to the air and strutted just that little bit more…well, it was understandable.

One thing that did happen was the next time Virgil took a flight with his big brother, Scott made a point to show him exactly how he took advantage of the conditions, how to gain that extra bit of speed, how to fly his best.

Virgil's black wings were the largest of the boys, and perhaps weren't as nimble as Scott's, but he learnt and he improved and lazy Sundays often saw them flying together. Scott doing loop-de-loops around his calmer brother and laughter at the fore.

Later, when the Tracy family launched International Rescue, those skills and those bonds drew all the brothers together into a tight knit and loving team. But for now, it was weekends and after school and smiles and laughter and a crazy elder brother who was determined to turn Virgil's wings the same colour as his own.

Scott's answer was always a piece of history.

Because none of the boys had quite screwed up as much as Virgil did the day he got distracted by the beauty of the landscape around him…

…and flew into a tree.

It had taken a hysterical father and elder brother, a cherry picker, a leg and a wing immobilised for weeks and a lifetime of brotherly torture to get over it.

So while Scott did acrobatics, John discovered science, Alan tried to kill himself emulating his eldest brother, and Gordon went on a hunt for the Loch Ness Monster in a lake in Tennessee, Virgil simply couldn't be trusted to look where he was going.

The 'George of the Jungle' jokes lasted a life time.

So yes, Scott was the best flyer of them all - the most agile, most able and most skilled.

And never ashamed to show it.

-o-o-o-


	2. Wrapped in Him

"How does it feel?"

"Huh?" He blinked and rolled over on the picnic rug just enough to catch sight of her face. "How does what feel?"

"Your wings. How does it feel to lift them? I've wondered about it for a long time."

A frown and he pushed himself up onto his elbow. He was shirtless as he was wont to be, the day was warm but not hot and he rarely denied himself the freedom in privacy. They had stashed themselves in a forested hollow hidden in the rocks on the island. It was a favourite spot, sheltered and shady and perfect to lay a rug out and just sit and daydream.

"You've seen us lift many times."

"Yes, but how does it feel? Does it hurt?"

Did it hurt? "Sometimes. Not always." Sometimes it was a relief as if his feathers were aching to be released. Other times they burned, most often if he was injured. In certain circumstances it was pleasurable. "Depends on the situation."

"What do you mean?" Kay's eyes were intense. This obviously meant a great deal to her.

"Well, they don't like being confined."

"What? Why?"

He shrugged, hidden feathers tingling at the thought. "Their natural state is to be free, maybe? I'm not sure."

She reached out a hand and gently traced a single line of his mark across his shoulder. Her touch was electric and he shivered.

Her finger drifted down his arm.

A smile as he released his skin feathers, the almost soft down that was prerequisite to full lift.

She jumped, snatching her hand away.

"It's okay, you can touch." He reached out and grabbed her hand and brought it back to his arm.

Her fingertips were hesitant at first, but eventually she gained confidence and slid between the filaments.

He sighed as his full span lifted involuntarily.

She snatched her hand away. "Virgil?"

A snort. "That was unexpected. I'm sorry." His flight feathers rustled against his back, itching to spread, to stretch to their full width.

"Are you okay?"

He looked up at her and smiled. "I'm fine. You did nothing wrong." He pushed himself up to a sitting position and was forced to unfurl his wings for comfort. The glade wasn't very big. There wasn't room for his full eight metres, but he had to release the tension at least a little. He shifted his shoulders and the ends of his wings batted at foliage.

Kay was staring at them.

"Did you want to touch?"

Her eyes widened. Everyone knew that you did not touch the Tracy brothers' wings. Sensitive and very personal, she had been taught that rule from a very early age.

Hadn't stopped her from wondering.

He nudged his right wing closer, gently easing it around her, a little awkwardly in the cramped conditions, but ultimately wrapping her in his feathers.

Eyes still wide, she reached out and brushed her fingers against his forewing.

Her touch was ever so soft and it rippled across his nerves.

Kay was smiling.

A smile of his own curled his lips. "You can't hurt me."

Her amazement immediately turned to a flat-eyed glare.

He held up his hands. "Okay. Okay. You are quite capable of hurting me, in many various, creative, and painful ways." He reached over and cupped her jaw. "But you wouldn't. I trust you." His thumb brushed over her cheek and she leant into him.

His wing wrapped tighter and around her and he drew her in close. His left wing matched the curl of his right and she was cradled in his arms, wrapped in black feathers.

A kiss to her forehead and she nestled under his chin, one hand splayed against his chest, the other curling around his waist, fingers tangling in the multitude of feathers cascading down his back.

"So soft."

"Some. My primaries are much stiffer." He shifted a little, exposing a sample of those feathers for her inspection."

Her hand reached out and touched flight feathers.

Despite himself, he shivered.

"They're sensitive."

"Yes."

"But strong."

"Yes."

"They're you."

He kissed her hair. "That they are."

"They're beautiful."

His arms tightened about her and his feathers rustled even more.

-o-o-o-


	3. Out of the Night

**Out of the night**

_Just a scene, scribbled down at lunch. Not much. Hope you enjoy it anyway. Marks & Wings, Virgil/Kayo._

-o-o-o-

The sun had set and the only light was the moon slowly climbing into the sky, starlight glinting off the ocean far below. The breeze was attempting to tangle her hair as the temperature dropped.

She shivered.

"John?"

"He is okay, Kayo. He has kept within the confines of the island. He's upset, but he's safe."

She bit back the urge to swear.

It had been another nasty one today and her lover had taken to the sky the moment they made it home.

She hated that she couldn't follow him.

She hated that she couldn't see him.

She worried.

"Kayo, you know he has to do this." John's voice was gentle over the comms. Their space brother was often the one she contacted at moments like these. He had insight she lacked.

Sure, she had access to sensors that could track Virgil, and yes, she had been known to follow his swooping circles about the island, but John and Gordon knew how Virgil was feeling.

They knew.

And she didn't.

So she climbed to the highest point on the island, the bare rock beneath her feet in an attempt to be as close to him as she could be.

Even in the darkness.

A rush of wind and her lover leapt out of the night to land in front of her. His massive wings whispered and tossed the air about him.

"Kay?" Soft baritone. A glint of rising moon in his eyes.

She wasn't one to rush into his arms despite the inclination. Instead, she stepped into his personal space, reaching up to caress his cheek.

Her fingers trailed past his ear into his hair and down the back of his neck, passing through the point where his warm skin sprouted the fine feathers leading into his lift. Pushing herself up onto her toes, she reached up and caught his lips with hers.

He responded immediately, wrapping her in his arms. The breeze was tangled by a sweep of his wings as he took her weight.

"I'm okay." It was rough and mostly breath.

It was foolish of her. She knew he was okay, but there was something about Virgil that made her vulnerable, as if he was part of her.

When he was hurting, she hurt, too.

She leant back a little, seeking his eyes in the darkness and only finding the shine of starlight, flickering as he blinked. "No, you're not."

"But I will be."

A sigh. "You will be." She caught his lips again, communicating with touch what she couldn't say.

His arms tightened.

"I love you." His warm breath against her lips.

Shadows in the darkness. Feathers and whispered movements.

"Love you, too."

-o-o-o-


	4. Who They Were

**Who they were**

_No idea what this is, but had to write before work. I haven't even reread as I only have minutes to do this._

_Marks & Wings - the boys have feathers :D_

-o-o-o-

The city was beautiful.

The sun was just rising over the horizon, lighting up the steel and glass buildings in gold. The lights from the night still shone in multicoloured brilliance, supported by the shadows. It was a magical combination.

There was a chill to the air, something he wasn't used to and it tantalised his skin. The odd flurry caught his hair. This high up it was unusual for such stillness.

Far below people were rising for their morning routines. Cars darted about between the buildings and ant-like figures scurried to and fro.

They caught his eyes.

They were what he had devoted his life to. These people, so different from him and his brothers. So unaware of what was possible. Out of the billions on the planet, only hundreds were like him. And those billions understood little what it was like to be him.

Em had spoken to him at length about this. Why they were like they were. Ave history. Feathers in artefacts. Persecution and adoration at both ends of the scale. Yet still they were mostly hidden. Some did not know they even existed.

Others hunted them.

Em.

Well, perhaps it was time the world knew. Perhaps it was time for a little exposure.

International Rescue saved lives. Now they had the opportunity to make a statement.

"You ready?"

Beside him Virgil stood as bare chested as he, his brow furrowed and determined. Beyond him, John shook his shoulders and his metallic grey span lifted, its engineering brilliance arching out in echo of his brother's huge eight metre span.

Gordon smiled at him. The odd one out, but no less wanting to participate, he sported one of Scott's jetpacks and was going to hold the holographic banner that would shout their message to the world.

Alan's wings shot out, appearing out of nowhere. His lift as abrupt and as startling as always. Gold blonde feathers smaller than his brothers' but far more agile, comparable to Scott's silver blue plumage.

Virgil straightened and lifted, his black feathers emerging behind him. A breath and he spread his wings.

They fluttered in the non-existent breeze.

A sigh and Scott lifted his own.

The people far below had no idea what was about to happen. That the Tracy brothers were going to expose themselves for what they were. That they were going to show exactly how powerful they and other Aves could be. That others no longer needed to hide.

That they could spread their wings.

"You ready?" He repeated the words and all four of his brothers nodded.

A grim smile. "Then let's do this."

And as one the five brothers leapt off the tallest building in New York and showed the world who they were.

-o-o-o-


	5. The Plan

_Still feeling crappy from last night, so trying to flush it out with writing. This happened. It wasn't what I expected, starting in self-indulgence, but it is what it is._

_Marks & Wings AU, following on from '__John__'. __ the-lady-razorsharp__ I don't know what he is up to, but I'm a little afraid of where it might end up._

_I'm not in control here. I'm just the typist._

-o-o-o-

The wind was cool on the mountain peak and it brushed against his face, caressing his stubble and tangling in his hair.

He wished it could wash away his thoughts. Sweep them into some oblivion and give him some peace.

But that was not to be.

John was healing. He would have his flight back, if not his beautiful white wings. Unprompted, the equations restricting the colouring of John's metal polymer wings danced across his mind, taunting him with the one aspect he had been unable to solve.

His brother would fly on metallic grey wings.

Not immediately. Practise was called for. John needed to almost learn again from scratch and while the first few steps had been made, watching them, for Virgil, was just pure pain.

This was his fault. He'd had the chance to take on the Hood and prevent this from happening, but no, he had chickened out, called it a moral code and run.

John had paid the price saving Virgil's life.

He closed his eyes.

The wind played with his eyelashes.

A moment and he scrunched up his face and lifted his wings.

They protested, the ache shivering down his wing bones and shaking his flight muscles. They hadn't yet forgiven him for his abuse. The infection in his right wing was gone, but the bone was still going through the last of its healing and his plucked feathers were still in the process of growing back.

It was exhausting.

The breeze caught his span, filaments fluttering, and he stretched it wide, a groan his only comment. A couple of forced wing beats clearly identified where everything hurt and he took a moment to just breathe.

The question now was what to do next.

His family had been struck down severely by a thug who would only continue to haunt them. How much more could they tolerate?

The answer was none.

Virgil had reached his limit. He was not a soldier. He didn't know how to fight, only to save. But this had crossed the line into saving. He needed to save his family from this asshole. He needed to repair what he had caused through his own inaction. He needed redemption.

He needed to stop the Hood from hurting his family ever again.

His wings folded across his back with a creak.

Time. He needed a little more time.

And a plan.

-o-o-o-


End file.
